i thought about doing a best of list of what went down in the art world of music, writing and movies for me in 2007, but then i thought, fuck it. it's all in the past and the past doesn't matter. the future is where it's at.
and what's in my future? i don't know. but after a year of random crap, i know i have to refocus, and get back on track. and that begins with getting this blog back on track - sort of. i don't think i'll be doing much with this blog in 2008, except for its intended purpose, which is to focus on my writing. admittedly, i have written very little, virtually nothing, in the last six months. and i have no excuses. the truth is, creatively, there has been a drought. and i have been doing this long enough not to force it when it's not there. it's a lot like trying to start a car when it won't start. there's only so much you can do before giving up and just waiting it out. hopefully it will start up for you again enough to get you home, if you know what i mean.
the last week of 2007 has been my most productive, having written a total of four brilliant pages. no, not brilliant, but it's something. i've also done a lot of rewriting and rearranging, what with the plot changing virtually on a daily basis. as i write more, certain characters get pushed to the sidelines while others move to the forefront. it's typical of the writing process.
now what about the novel? this great canadian novel that i've been writing for the past two... three years? this novel that i wrote, then rewrote, then deleted, then subsequently wrote all over again? this novel, while political, is ultimately at its heart about two men looking for excuses as to why their lives aren't what they are supposed to be, why they fail to live up to the archetype of their fathers, and why they lay waste to their lives, not in a stylistic, over-the-top drug or alcohol induced way, but more in the subtle ways men tend to carve away at their own lives, only to wake up one day and realize they've made a mistake. ultimately what makes a man is not how much he can drink, or how much ass he can kick, but rather how he behaves in a crisis.
anyway, the question is will this novel ever be done? i don't know. it seems i've been writing the same novel for ten years, with each attempt at it being an improvement over the last, but not worthy of any sort of final product. hey, whatever. ultimately you can't regret anything. you just have to keep going, right?